Rainbow Daggers
by Phoenix Dayze
Summary: 10 drabbles that cover snippets of Cloud's mindset from the labs to the cliffside to his returned memory.


Rainbow Daggers  
By: Phoenix Dayze  
(Cloud, Zack)  
R 

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy, nor do I pretend to.

#096: Green

I never knew that a color could be painful. But waking up to waves of green was always agony. My life had become nothing more than a plaything, my soul abused and refined to the point of a needle. I was lost, floating in a void of jade suffering. It was now, amidst the harsh lights and pricking invasion, that I finally became what I craved but could never achieve. I had _worth_, a purpose. Despite the pain and the cruelty of the hands that touched…hurt, it didn't change the one undeniable thought that tainted me. _They want me here._

#017: Fear

It was dark in the green, the vibrancy deepening to a rich, sea-storm black. That was how I told the time, something that had been unattainable. It was mostly a way to divide one pain from the other. It was in these dark, floating hours that I wished that Zack hadn't been taken away. That there was still vivid blue eyes peering through the swirling mists of glass and midnight Mako. The tube next to me was desperately empty. I was alone in the wretched terror. I gave in. A unfamiliar sound. Rushing liquid.  
Air. Strong arms. And then, darkness…

#070: Unbound

Hesitant steps in the night, a blurry reality. Time hadn't stopped, but elongated in an adverse pear of desperate movement. Strong shoulders supported me, my fingertips vaguely aware of a familiar bicep. Zack. The man's rough breath exhaled against my face, a solid, protective grip around my waist. We were free! Somehow amidst the never-ending darkness, Zack had done the impossible. Now we were moving forward in a flurry of cantered steps, a slow but steady escape from Hell. I wanted to thank him, wanted to ask him _how_, but speech was lost inside me, and I could only stare…

#097: Yellow

Yellow didn't hurt. Sunshine, a flash of warmth, the youth of a day borne anew. A truck, old and flaking. Rest. Freedom. Relief. The jolt and sway of the steady progression towards home. Warm, hard metal against my back. A yellow journey. A bright, warm voice, cheery like the sun. _"What are you gonna do when we get back to Midgar?"_ My answer was lost in the mental jumble that matched the motion of the truck. _"I would never forget about you, Cloud."_ Such a short time before yellow would hurt as much as green. Maybe more. _"We're friends, right?"_

#098: Red

_"Cloud, run!"_ Two simple words. What would have happened if I could've obeyed? Maybe the dirt wouldn't have been so harsh against my skin. Maybe I wouldn't have been forced to breathe in the sweat of our pursuers. Maybe I could have done something… A thick, fleshy thudding. Grunts of pain. My name whispered on a voice I'd never hear again. Red tinges my vision, mixing with the sand that bruises my face, a deep crimson sorrow. An abnormal stillness--quiet like it's never been. My scrambled senses speak of loss, but I'm not sure what it is that I'm missing…

#099: Blue

The body lying still and silent should mean something, but it doesn't. My mind is a giant void, a blank of anything it once was. I am cold and impersonal. Blue eyes, devoid of the spark I may have recognized, stared up at me. I felt an inner twist of sorrow at this poor bastard's fate. But pity and concern were no longer part of me. Regret for a nameless corpse required more time than I had to spare. Something within me told me to move on, echoed for me to run. Death would not find _me_ on this hillside.

#076: Anonymous

For the first time, I'm oblivious to staring eyes. The crowded streets are just another obstacle, and they mean nothing. The murmuring voices are a dull roar in my ears. No doubt questioning the things my conscious mind had failed to notice. The bullet holes that littered my vest. The dark, near-black stains that were still wet and sticky against my unmarred chest. The large, angry sword that was locked like a dying man's last breath in my battered grip. I'm a man on a mission. A man who's lost himself. A man who's body still rests on the hill.

#007: Awakening

It all came crashing down. My identity. The fragile walls. Everything that I had built up within myself to create the painstaking illusion of a complete person. It was all gone. I was laid bare, eviscerated from the inside out. I was hollow, bleeding out the man I had forgotten. The dark hair. The infectious smile. The silent strength that had saved me one too many times. It all came rushing back. The shattered escape. The broken body on the hill. The beautiful life I'd let burn out and then stolen. Zack always had been who I'd wanted to be.

#083: Love

I thrust the sword into the ground, the blade shining with tears long overdue. My knuckles whitened as I clutched the hilt with bruising force. Pain more severe than I'd ever felt wracked my soul. A star had gone out, and no punishment on earth could light it again. My knees hit the ground with harsh, shredded memories. A death long-coming. A life too short. _We're friends, right?_ If only I'd known then that those three precious words would damn near be his last. I wish now that I could've answered. But what would I've said? Maybe… "I love you…"

#035: Oath

Green pain. The yellow of lost friendship. The deep, burning, sorrowful red. Endless blue--staring, dead and cold. A rainbow of misery. That was me now. Without Zack, I'm more colorful than I've ever been. I'm finally something worth seeing. Zack gave me life. I'd rather go back to being drab, return to the worthless, unseen grunt I deserved to be. "I won't let your sacrifice be wasted." A promise made on the edge of a sword, sworn by the blood I spilled from my own hand as penance, a vow. "I'll live for us both… and carry you with me."

The End.


End file.
